


The Pocket-Universe Effect

by rocketthebunny (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Vague, and rly fake deep descriptions, eliza is hams' platonic wife, eliza is rly excited about lams, eliza teaches history, english teachers!au, im sorry, im sorry if these tags are sorta weird im listening to act 2 n crying, its just kissing???, its up to the readers interpretation, maybe established relationship???, platonic hams/eliza, theyre arguing about the oxford comma then they kiss i dont know, this is my contribution to the hamilton fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 11:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5373800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/rocketthebunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the pocket-universe effect (n) - the feeling that nothing else outside your little bubble of reality can quite matter at all (-Kieren, penceyprat)<br/>side effects may include: falling in love</p><p>based on tumblr prompt: Imagine your OTP+ as English teachers arguing about the Oxford comma. (otpprompts.tumblr.com)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pocket-Universe Effect

**Author's Note:**

> as always, this is un beta'd so if you catch an error feel free to let me know in the comments
> 
> constructive criticism and opinions are always appreciated
> 
> thank you for reading :)

It all started after last period: it's the one period where Alexander and John teach together. It's full of glances at each other when they think the other's not looking and their students firmly believing that they're fucking. It's common for Alex to go on a tangent about a passage from a book and John to stare at him adoringly.

But this time, someone brought it up. In the middle of a presentation on the Oxford comma, Alex makes a snarky comment against the offending punctuation mark. A student, a girl, with long brown hair and Italian features, calls out "Just  _kiss_ already,  _god_."

The discussion stops abruptly, Alexander looking at John until he glances to John's lips and okay, he's in class, he needs to calm down.

John notices of course, and after class ends, he bumps shoulders with Alex and says "I still think the Oxford comma is more important than your Poli-Sci degree, Hamilton."

And so, Alex finds himself pulled into a debate about a goddamn  _punctuation mark_.

\--

"Why do we even have to argue about this, Alex?" John exclaims, tossing his class's quizzes on the desk. "The Oxford comma is a _necessary_  part of English grammar. Case closed. You don't want your strippers to be Obama and Victoria. You want Queen Victoria, Obama, and the strippers, separately."

"John, listen to me -  _no_  - there's no need for the Oxford comma," Alexander says, maybe less calmly than he would've wanted. "You just rearrange the words if you need to. You even did it right now. Instead of "The strippers, Obama and Queen Victoria" you can just say "Obama, Queen Victoria and the strippers". It's completely obsolete. Only America uses it, anyway; get with the program, Jackie."

John smiles, pulling Alexander closer to himself. "Aw, Alex, are you an Oxford-comma abolitionist?"

Alex shoots him a glare, but relaxes into the embrace. " _...Maybe._ "

There's a small laugh in his ear, John's cheek against his shoulder. Alex suddenly feels extremely warm, the warmth spreading through his body from the points where John is touching him: his shoulder, his hip, the small of his back. There's velvet in his veins and a fluttering in his stomach. And there's another thing - it's there like the taste of the colour white, the letter C, the way July feels on your skin. It's on his hands and behind his ears, on his tongue and in his lungs, burning through his core. It's the same feeling he got when he was with Eliza.

He nestles his face in the crook of John's neck, pressing a small kiss to the skin there. When John lifts his head, Alex is reluctant - he's warm and Alexander hasn't had enough time to trace the freckles speckling his collarbone and shoulder with his mouth. But when John fits a hand under his chin, lifting Alex's head gently to meet his eyes - Alex doesn't resist, merely smiling at him with those crinkly eyes that he loves so much.

John's lips touch his, softly. Alex presses forward, hands on John's shoulders, fingers curling when John tilts his head, slotting their mouths together like puzzle pieces. He tightens his grip on Alexander's hip. Alex pushes John against his desk, forgetting about the essays he has to grade, his ex-girlfriend-turned-best-friend in the history classroom down the hall, the fact that they forgot to close the door. It's all lips sliding against each other, hands making their way under t-shirts and sweaters, fingers ghosting over hipbones. It's orange peels and the smell of rainy days, the feel of sand between your fingers, slip, slipping away. It's sweaty palms pressing against freckled stomachs, tongued tides coming, receding, feeling like the world holds its breath so that they can mingle theirs. It's nothing and everything and Alex can't get enough.

When John pulls away, Alex gives him a small smile and rests his head on John's shoulder. He thinks he can smell coffee and blueberries and ink, with a hint of Old Spice, and he closes his eyes and loses himself in it. It's undeniably John Laurens, and Alex doesn't think that there's anything better.

For a moment, it's just them. just Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens, pressed against John's desk in an English classroom in an average high school in Manhattan. Nothing else exists - just them, entwined, sharing warmth, sharing breath, sharing life. Their lips brush again and Alex can feel John's mouth curl up into a smile. Alex smiles back as he presses kisses to John's lips, his nose, his forehead, every one of his freckles.

"You know, Alex, I kinda like you a lot," a small voice says. Alexander shushes him with a peck to the lips.

He smiles, and his eyes crinkle a little at the edges. "You know, John, I kinda like you a lot too."

It's only when they hear a shutter click that they remember that they left the door open.

Alex's head whips to the side just to see Eliza standing there, phone in hand. She gives him a smile and says, "Well, Alex, I certainly didn't think that  _this_ was why we broke up."

Alexander feels his face heat. "I- I didn't, just... I- I don't know," he stammers, his usual eloquence lost.

She laughs and walks over to the pair, hugging them tightly. "Man, I don't care! As long as you're happy, your platonic wife Eliza is a-OK."

Alex and John breathe synchronized sighs of relief. The former smiles at Eliza, hugging her back. "Thank you. You're the best wife."

When they pull back, Eliza gives them a worried look. "You should be careful, though. Jefferson could get you guys fired if he sees you."

John smiles gratefully and nods. "Duly noted, 'Liza."

As she's walking out, Eliza calls out, "Be safe! And don't forget that both of you have stuff to grade!", before shutting the door behind herself.

Alexander looks at the door for a few seconds before turning back to John and diving back into his mouth enthusiastically.

The last coherent thing he says is an inaudible whisper of "Love you" against John's lips.


End file.
